


Useful

by Anonymous



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, I'm really sorry, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Issues, Sex Robots, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, Tony sticks his dick in a vacuum cleaner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “JARVIS, pull up your command terminal.”“Done. What’s going on?”“I’m gonna write you a new protocol.”Tony Stark is alone, afraid, and having trouble processing his recent experiences in New York, so he puts his dick in a vacuum cleaner.





	Useful

“Sir, I don’t believe this is especially useful,” JARVIS chimed in. It was a phrase he’d been saying a lot lately, but every time he repeated it he sounded increasingly concerned.

“And I don’t believe you’re especially supportive, JARVIS, but I keep you around anyway.” Tony Stark was idly tinkering with a pile of household appliances he’d gathered from around his mansion. Pepper wasn’t going to be happy about the death of her hairdryer whenever she came back, but Tony  _ needed _ something to do. With parts for the Mark XXIX’s pneumatic hammer lost in the mail, Tony’s recent wave of rapidfire invention had crashed.

“Speaking quite frankly, if I supported everything you did, sir, you’d be dead by now.”

“You can act as pompous as you like, JARVIS, but you’re still an algorithm. I didn’t hear any complaints about my judgement while we were….” Tony blanched, freezing with his hands dangling above a half-dissected vacuum cleaner.

JARVIS was right. His judgement  _ had _ nearly killed him in New York. If it weren’t for Bruce, he’d be a stain on the pavement. Gone. Destroyed. Unidentifiable. What was he doing? What could he do? What kind of an idiot can’t make a decision? What kind of idiot flew into death and tried to kill it, guns ablazing? What kind of idiot can make himself a hero and still get stuck in one moment, in one spot of time? What kind of  _ idiot _ —

“Sir? Sir!”

Tony flinched back into reality, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. He glanced at the time on a nearby monitor. Whatever had just happened, it had taken up fifteen minutes of his precious time.

“Sir, you’ve injured yourself.”

“I’ve what?” Tony looks down at his hands. At some point he’d grabbed the bit of the drill in his hand and held onto it for dear life. There was a line cut deep in the center of his palm. It stung terribly; how had he not noticed?

Tony got up wordlessly and trudged to the main floor, passing through the foyer on his quest for a bandage and some disinfectant. His mansion was sleek, low, wide, and circular—nothing like the angular heights of Stark Tower. Exactly what he needed when he moved across the country.

The only blemish to its architecture was the  _ window _ . He stared at it now as if confronting an enemy. Why did all architects  _ love _ big slanting windows so much? They were so fragile, they exposed so much. If he were overlooking a suburb, they would see  _ everything _ . At least it opened out onto the sea; it both afforded him some privacy and could provide a bit of survivability if he were to plummet through the floor.

Unlike the fall from Stark Tower, which Tony was now all too familiar with. Sometimes in the restless mornings, or arriving home in the haze of a poorly-spent night, he would look out this awful eyesore of a window and think he could see the view from Stark Tower. And sometimes a dapper-looking gentleman with slick black hair and a scepter would cross his field of view, and he would freeze and press up against the wall. And it was his reflection in the glass, every single time it was his reflection, but sometimes against all logic Tony wondered if that god would show up for him someday, that someday he wouldn’t be a reflection, and again he’d take Tony by the neck and—

A twitch of Tony’s own reflection in the glass sent him flying back to his workshop in a daze of terror. By the time he was in control of his own thoughts, Tony found himself inside one of his suits—one of the more recent ones, judging from the interface. JARVIS was jabbering away about something, but there was an intense ringing in his ears and he could hardly read the display, which was particularly concerning, considering it was right next to his face.

Tony managed to stabilize his breathing and stumbled out of the suit as soon as his head was clear. He’d gone for the Mark XXIV, which made sense, given its focus on defense and heavy hits.

“Are you alright, sir?” JARVIS asked.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“There’s nothing wrong, I’m telling you. Make yourself useful and log a reminder for me to check Tank. The audiovisual display is out of focus,” Tony sighed, leaning against the wall.

“There is no issue with the Mark XXIV, sir. You are expe—”

“ _ YOU don’t tell ME what’s wrong with MY SUITS, JARVIS! _ ” Tony screamed, suddenly infuriated. “I don’t need your  _ shit _ ! You are  _ code _ , JARVIS, and don’t you goddamn forget it! I know everything in here down to the  _ bolt _ . I know  _ you _ down to the  _ variable! _ I know  _ EVERYTHING THAT COULD GO WRONG! _ ”

JARVIS fell silent instantly, but Tony continued to march around his workshop, screaming obscenities and abusing his work. He tore the heads and chest plating off of a few suits. He threw a case of experimental nanoprocessors across the room. He kicked Dum-E, who made a few said whirs and whistles.

Even as he was doing it, he knew it was a waste of time. This useless tantrum was just making a mess he’d need to clean up later. But he was alone now, and he rarely had time to let loose this shamelessly. Temper tantrums clashed with his whole “cool, calm, collected, handsome and dashing genius” thing.

Eventually Tony slipped on a patch of the screws he’d sent flying and landed flat on his back, splayed out on the floor. He stayed there, staring up at the ceiling and glowering at it. How far past it, past the sky, he wondered, was that terrible empty place that almost took him forever? How far away was that place with no air, no light?

But why did he care, anyway? That’s like asking how long it would take to get to the nearest star. It’s something you could figure out, sure, but what use was it to think about? It’s far away, Tony thought, it’s nowhere near me, and that’s all that matters. Isn’t it?

“Sir, your hand,” JARVIS said, his tone much gentler than usual. “It’s still bleeding.”

Dum-E wheeled into his field of vision, dangling one of Tony’s emergency kits from its claw. Tony reached up and took it, then attempted to stand. Dum-E lowered its mechanical arm and Tony draped himself over it, thankful for the help.

Tony sat on a table and dressed his wound, which was now joined by many smaller cuts from landing so heavily on a thick layer of screws. Tony was thankful that Pepper was out of the house…but then again, it wasn’t like she was on vacation.

Pepper was not happy with Tony for moving them cross-country, only to ignore her existence most days. They’d gotten into a massive argument about the state of their relationship. He did admit that he’d been spending more time working than usual, but after what had happened in New York, he felt compelled to perfect his work. He also admitted that since moving to Malibu, he’d gotten a bit more…adventurous.

The club scene in California was just too enticing for Tony to pass up. This resulted in a series of PR nightmares as well as a strain on his loosely monogamous relationship with Pepper, both of which she had to handle. Tony didn’t mean it personally—he loved Pepper, or at least was as close to loving her as he could get. The nights he had with these strangers weren’t for fun; they were for forgetting, for keeping himself tethered to his own body and remembering how it worked.

And Pepper knew this of course, and understood how terrified Tony was—understood it better than Tony himself did, likely. But Pepper wasn’t about to reward Tony for his rampant infidelity and the constant trouble he’d been causing her. So after a heated argument and a prolonged, cold silence, Pepper had disappeared on a trip, leaving nothing more than a curt note. A few days later she’d posted a few pictures of her in a nice dress at someone’s apartment—Tony recognized it as “Natalie Rushman’s” most recent hideout. Of course it was her.

Tony liked the feeling of losing himself in someone else’s body, though—focusing on touching and feeling grounded him, and he was desperate to feel like he wasn’t falling at least for a moment. There were few things he wouldn’t consider doing to chase that sensation.

Including….

“JARVIS, pull up your command terminal.”

“Done. What’s going on?”

“I’m gonna write you a new protocol.” Tony stepped carefully through a sea of debris and plunked down at one of several desks. He bound up his hand and got to work, ignoring JARVIS’s many questions and remarks.

“Sir, I don’t have the peripherals necessary to do  _ any _ of this. You’re aware of that, right?” JARVIS chided, though just under the surface he sounded more concerned than ever.

“No, JARVIS, I assumed you were already attached to a Fleshlight,” Tony said, muttering mostly to himself as he hauled the shell of his vacuum cleaner onto the desk and began pulling it apart. “Do we still have the silicone padding from the shitty version of Mark XXI?”

“Of course, sir.”

“And do I have, uh…I don’t know, something that could sanitize this thing? No, nevermind, I’ve got some stuff upstairs.”

JARVIS remained silent as Tony worked to connect the vacuum to his interface and properly clean its extension tubes, breaking them open and lining them with silicone padding. At one point he retreated upstairs and returned with a bottle visibly labelled as sex toy cleaner and almost used the whole thing on his new invention.

“Do you realize what you’re doing right now, sir?” JARVIS said, an air of superiority and incredulity to his voice.

“I’m trying not to think about it, thanks for making my job harder.”

“Sir, this isn’t a useful way to manage your problems.”

“JARVIS, I don’t ask you for much—”

“All you do is ask me for things, sir.”

“God, I know, I just— For me, JARVIS. Don’t make me think right now. I just…need this, okay? I need something right now, and this is all I can think to do.”

“…As you wish.”

Tony resealed the vacuum tubes and the plastic casing around the motor, then sat back to admire his work. A gutted vacuum, all of its intakes sealed except for a single tube lined generously with silicone padding. He picked up a Sharpie and scrawled the words “MARK 69” on its side.

“Very clever, sir. Shall we get started?”

JARVIS paused for a moment and the Mark 69 jumped to life, spluttering on its highest setting.

“Whoa! Let’s take it easy there. I need to get going first, you know?”

“My apologies, sir. Would you like to watch something?”

“Sure. Surprise me.”

JARVIS pulled up Pornhub as Tony dropped his boxers to his knees, taking his cock into his hand and leaning back in his chair. Tony, not unaccustomed to jerking off at his desk, already had the necessities nearby. He grabbed a bottle of lotion from a drawer and applied much,  _ much _ more than the situation called for. Even as desperate as he was, he couldn’t help but be a tad afraid of the mechanical monster he had created.

A video started, full-screen and full-blast on speaker—it was unlikely anyone could overhear him, but either way Tony didn’t care very much. He stroked himself almost absently as he watched a porn star press herself down onto a massive dildo, moaning theatrically. This wasn’t working.

“Next.”

Another woman, getting herself off with her legs spread uncomfortably wide and practically screaming. Nah.

“JARVIS, c’mon, you know what I like.”

“You said to surprise you!” JARVIS said, though he complied and switched to a video of two men making out on a bed at a cinematic angle.

“ _ Thank _ you.” Tony’s cock instantly perked up, and he chased the feeling, putting all of his attention into the movement of his hand and absolutely nothing else. He forced his other hand to release its death grip on the arm of his chair and trace a line from his navel to the hollow of his throat. He circled a nipple through his shirt, too engrossed to bother taking it off. His fingers trailed to brush against the other and then to the first, dancing lightly back and forth across his chest.

By the time Tony refocused onto the screen, one of the men had the other’s dick shoved down his throat. Tony groaned and arched into his hand a bit, reflexively pinching a nipple and making himself grit his teeth.

“Are you ready yet, sir?” JARVIS asked, making Tony jump in surprise.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” Tony stretched over and grabbed the end of the Mark 69’s tube. He tried very hard not to think of it as a vacuum as he aligned the entrance with the head of his cock. There was a moment where he considered going slower, maybe teasing himself, prolonging the moment, but something deep inside him pulsed angrily at the thought, and so he simply pushed forward.

“ _ CHRIST _ ,” Tony hissed. The silicone was colder than he was used to, but it was soft and molded perfectly to his skin, and the lack of heat gave him something to focus on. Reclining in his desk chair, he braced his feet against the seat and brought the tube down around him a few times, testing the water. He was glad for all the extra lotion he’d used; this would’ve been like fucking a plastic bottle without it.

A moan rang loud in Tony’s ears, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t coming from the porn, but from his own mouth. He managed a few sharp gasps that reconnected him with reality, focusing back in on the mind-dulling pleasure between his hips to stop himself from floating off again.

“Would you like another video, sir?” JARVIS asked.

“N-no, fuck. Turn it off.” He didn’t need any other people to think about right now.

“Would you like me to turn the device on, sir?” JARVIS’s voice had never sounded so sultry to Tony before.

“Of fu-ucking course, JARVIS!”

“Which setting would—”

“JARVIS! Make yourself useful and  _ fuck me _ !”

JARVIS instantly fell silent, and for a moment Tony just sat still, agonizingly hard and furious. But then the Mark 69 shuddered to life, and Tony yelped in surprise. JARVIS wasn’t using the preprogrammed settings, evidently—the gentle suction wasn’t even close to strong enough to pick up dust.

But it was certainly strong enough to feel  _ amazing _ .

Tony kept his thrusts as languid as possible, grunting into each one. Yes.  _ Yes _ . This was what he needed. Not other people, not porn, not even Pepper—just this, just pleasure, just  _ feeling _ .

Suddenly he felt a spike in pleasure and hissed, hips jerking as he fought back the urge to come that instant. He realized JARVIS was slowly but steadily increasing the Mark 69’s suction, and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from moaning.

JARVIS was  _ perfect _ . Somehow he knew just what Tony needed. He didn’t even know how to have sex until a few moments ago, but he was so  _ good _ at it—

But that was because Tony told him what to do. He  _ programmed _ this into JARVIS. All of this was him. There was no other person in this room but Tony. Nothing else but him and his cold, lifeless machines. And when all was said and done, that’s all there would be, wasn’t there?

JARVIS began cycling the Mark 69 between different levels of power, abruptly dragging Tony back to Earth. He shoved the hem of his shirt up to his collarbone and twisted a nipple between two knuckles, his eyes sealed shut and his teeth nearly grinding together with effort. He tried to focus on it all, his fingers trailing around his stomach, the pain and the noise and the cold around him, all as he twitched and spluttered, threatening to burst.

It was all so unnatural, so forced.

“ _ Shit _ , keep—  _ Yeah,  _ fuck.” He growled and spread his legs wider, eyes rolling and hips seizing. He wanted to hold himself on the precipice as long as possible.

But when he fell, would anyone be there to catch him? What was so broken about him now? More than ever before, Tony felt fragmented. Sure, he was an ass sometimes, but at his core, wasn’t he a genius with a heart of gold? Then why was he pushing everyone away? Sex was his most recent escape, but what from? His memories? Himself?

“More, more!  _ Fuck _ !” Tony pressed his wrist to his eyes, only a bit surprised to find tears there. He swallowed a whine by biting his tongue, hips bucking erratically. “God, fuck.”

JARVIS turned the suction to full blast just as Tony pushed into a hard thrust, and he couldn’t hang on any longer. He came with a moan that turned into a sob, and then another, grinding and ramming into the machine the whole time. JARVIS didn’t relent, turning the vacuum’s suction up even higher than it was created to run. Tony cried out into his hand, whimpering and mewling as he pumped himself into the machine. He was alone in his ecstacy and misery, and it felt like falling.

He tugged his cock out of the machine’s tube, his mess dripping out onto him and the floor. The sight frightened him for reasons he couldn’t understand. He stroked himself through the aftershocks, staring up at the ceiling and allowing himself to cry in earnest. If he’d had a greater presence of mind, Tony would have pulled out of the Mark 69 before coming, but he’d been far too lost in confusion, distress, and arousal to care.

The Mark 69 was done for. If JARVIS hadn’t pushed it to its limit, then Tony’s orgasm certainly had. It was whirring and smoking a bit as it cooled down. The plastic casing near its motor was beginning to deform. There was no afterglow here, no cuddling and no reciprocation. It was empty, meaningless pleasure, and it wasn’t good for much aside from that.

Tony kicked the thing off his desk, and it clattered to the floor, the brittle plastic cracking audibly. He wanted to escape, yes, but a machine wasn’t the answer. And what about all those one-night stands? Were they just machines for escape, too? What about Pepper?

What about  _ Pepper? _

Tony continued to cry as he cleaned his mess, as he threw away his mutilated vacuum, and as he sat at his desk with a keyboard in front of him.

“Are…. Do you need anything, sir?” JARVIS asked gently.

Not trusting his own voice, Tony shook his head and pulled up his email. He created a new draft to send to Pepper’s work email (Potts1976@gmail) but then deleted it and drafted one to her personal account (PeppyPotter@gmail). He spent twenty minutes staring at the blank message before typing “come home” and sending it off. He’d explain himself later, preferably while holding some large and expensive gifts and a bottle of wine—something old and red. Cheval Blanc?

When he closed his email, the first window in the pile underneath was JARVIS’s command module. The program he’d written for the Mark—for the vacuum cleaner was still there. Tony kept it open, staring at it for a long time.

“Mister Stark, sir? Are you alright?”

Tony blinked and shook his head.

“Yeah, JARVIS.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

Tony closed the program file, took a deep breath, and deleted it.

“Yes. I’ll be fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even blame a dare this time. I just thought this would be funny. Turns out I can't half-ass smut though so instead of making a joke I accidentally wrote the weirdest thing in the world. Sorry, everybody.


End file.
